Chapter 17 Lexa
LEXA
The human … town? Camp? Village? Whatever they were calling it looked wrong.
The structures were clambered together, all sharp angles and mismatched materials that had never been meant to stand like that.
In the past months, I'd gotten used to the styles of Scalvaris, and human metal just didn't fit in.
Everything here was scavenged, repurposed, barely holding together. The seams where different sections joined showed gaps stuffed with what looked like fabric or dried vegetation. Nothing matched. Nothing belonged. It was all just pieces of a ship that had died screaming as it hit atmosphere.
Between two larger structures, I caught a glimpse of something that made me stop. A carefully shielded area, protected by what looked like solar panels rigged at angles to provide shade.
Through the gaps, I could see green. Rows of plants growing in what had to be an aquaponics setup, the kind we'd planned to use once we reached our destination planet.
Every single person had been briefed before signing on to the Nostos. The first years of life in our new home would be difficult as we eked out life on some distant planet. But it wasn't supposed to be … this.
Volcaryth was a hell-planet.
Suns that could cook you in your own skin. Desert that stretched for days in every direction, red and hostile and utterly indifferent to human survival. The heat alone should have killed them all in the first week.
There were rivers and lakes of fire. Tectonic instability. Giant freaking firebirds determined to pick our bones clean.
But the crew here was trying. And I wanted them to succeed.
My throat tightened. These were my people. Humans who'd made it through the same crash, the same impossible odds. Who'd pulled themselves from wreckage and built this desperate settlement with their bare hands.
I was pissed. So fucking pissed at how they'd taken Nyx and not given me a second to explain, but I was willing to hope it was a misunderstanding that could somehow be worked out.
If Nyx didn't kill anyone in the meantime.
I had to find him.
The settlement sprawled out in a rough circle, buildings clustered together for mutual support.
People moved around with purpose, carrying supplies or water containers.
Everyone had a job, a role. The kind of efficiency that came from months of survival mode, where every person's contribution meant the difference between living and dying.
And every single one of them was watching me.
I felt their eyes tracking my movement as I walked deeper into the settlement. Subtle glances that tried to be discreet but weren't. Whispers that cut off as I passed. A few people stopped what they were doing entirely, staring with the kind of curiosity usually reserved for zoo exhibits.
There were thousands of people here. But everyone knew everyone else by now. I was the newcomer, the curiosity. Of course they were looking.
The one who'd been rescued from the monsters.
The thought made my jaw clench. If they only knew.
My fingers itched for my knife, but I resisted reaching for it. At least no one had taken that from me. I would cut anyone who tried.
The weight of it against my hip was reassuring. Nyx had made this for me. Had carried it for who knew how long, waiting for the right moment to offer it. The leather grip was already shaped to my palm, like he'd studied my hands while I slept.
It was mine. He was mine.
"Larissa, please." A calm male voice came from down one of the narrow alleys.
The sound cut through my spiraling thoughts.
I had my direction.
The alley was barely wide enough for two people to pass. The walls on either side were more salvaged hull plating, the metal still showing scorch marks from atmospheric entry. My boots scraped against packed dirt as I moved cautiously forward, following the sound of voices.
A curtain hung across an opening ahead. Not a door, just fabric rigged to provide privacy. The kind of makeshift solution that screamed limited resources and unlimited desperation.
I paused at the edge, listening. The male voice was still talking, low and soothing. A woman responded, her tone sharp and brittle.
Carefully, I pulled the curtain aside just enough to peek through.
The space beyond was a makeshift medical tent.
Cots lined one wall, most of them occupied.
Medical supplies were organized on shelves made from storage crates, everything labeled in neat handwriting.
The setup was impressively organized given the circumstances, but it was still primitive compared to what we would have had on Earth.
No diagnostic equipment, no proper surgical tools.
Just bandages and whatever medications they'd salvaged from the crash.
Another reminder of how much damage the ship had taken during landing. How much we'd lost.
"I'm fine," said the woman who must have been Larissa.
I saw her on the nearest cot. The resemblance to Kira was there in the bone structure, the shape of her eyes. But everything else was wrong.
She looked bad. Stringy dark hair that hung limply past her shoulders, every bone visible where she wasn't covered by clothes. She was stick thin, starved and gaunt, and had a haunted look in her eyes.
We should have come for her sooner.
Rage surged through me. The Blade Council had debated for weeks while this woman rotted in Ignarath's slave pits. Had weighed the political implications and the resource costs while Larissa and the others suffered.
I wanted to curse the Blade Council for hesitating.
But I was just as guilty. I'd been in Scalvaris, safe and fed and sleeping in my safe quarters with the other humans. I'd been training and learning Drakarn customs and having vivid dreams about Nyx while Larissa was being starved and broken.
Vega had told us it was bad. Had described what she’d seen in Ignarath, the conditions, the casual cruelty. But I'd never imagined this. Never let myself picture what months of captivity would actually do to a person.
The guilt sat heavy in my chest, made breathing difficult.
I wanted to tear that city to the ground.
I must have made a noise. Some small sound of rage or disgust that I couldn't quite suppress.
Larissa jerked her gaze towards me even as she flinched back. "Who the hell are you? Get out of here!"
Her hand shot out, knocked over a metal tray on the table beside her cot. The contents scattered across the floor with a clatter that made her flinch again, curling in on herself like she expected to be hit.
The medic, a man in his forties with the kind of tired eyes that came from seeing too much suffering, rushed to pick things up. His movements were slow and careful, giving Larissa time to track them. Not threatening.
He'd done this before. Knew how to move around traumatized patients.
I took a careful step in past the curtain that acted as a door. "My name is Lexa. I'm a friend of your sister's."
Larissa looked at me blankly. "My sister is dead."
The words hit hard. Flat and certain, like she'd accepted it as fact months ago. Like she'd mourned and moved on and couldn't afford to hope otherwise.
My chest ached for Kira. For the woman who'd spent months desperately searching while Larissa had given up hope of ever being found. For the reunion that should have happened weeks ago if the Blade Council hadn't been so fucking cautious.
I'd hoped that word from Vega had spread to Larissa after Vega’s mission. That somehow, she'd heard her sister was alive and safe.
But apparently not.
"She's not." I took one more step into the room and stopped when Larissa held up a shaking fist, as if she could fight me off. "I promise you. She's safe. I just saw her a few days ago."
"Don't lie to me!" Larissa's voice cracked. Her whole body trembled, every muscle tensed like she was preparing to either fight or flee. Her eyes were too wide, pupils dilated with fear and adrenaline.
"I—" Something metallic went flying past my head.
I ducked on instinct, the object clattering against the wall behind me. A water cup. Larissa had thrown it with surprising force for someone who looked like a slight breeze could knock her over.
"I think you need to leave," the medic said. His voice was surprisingly calm given that Larissa was practically hissing at him. "Please, you're upsetting her."
Fucking hell.
I held up both hands and backed out of the room.
The curtain fell closed behind me. I backed into the alley, breathing hard, trying to process what I'd just seen.
Someone placed a hand on my back, like they thought I might fall over.
The touch was light. But I'd spent months in Scalvaris where touching someone without permission was a challenge that had to be met with force. Where physical contact meant either intimacy or combat, nothing in between.
I whipped around, hand automatically clasping the hilt of my knife. The blade was halfway out of its sheath before my brain caught up with my reflexes.
The woman behind me stumbled back, her eyes going wide. She held up both hands in a gesture of surrender, her whole body language screaming no threat.
"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just thought—"
Damn it.
I forced my hand to release the knife, let it slide back into its sheath. My heart hammered against my ribs, adrenaline still flooding my system. The woman was still backing away, putting more distance between us with each step.
Around us, other people had stopped to stare. Watching the newcomer who'd nearly stabbed someone for a friendly touch. Confirming every suspicion they probably had about what the Drakarn had done to me.
If they only knew. The Drakarn hadn't made me violent. I'd been violent long before the crash. Military training and three deployments had taught me to respond to unexpected touch with immediate force.
Scalvaris had just refined those instincts, made them sharper.
I'd changed so much in the last several months. Adapted to Drakarn customs, learned their ways, understood their culture. I'd gone from viewing them as monsters to seeing them as people. Complex, honorable people who were just as varied and complicated as humans.
I'd found a place there. A purpose.
A mate.
I didn't belong here anymore. These were my people by biology, by shared origin. But Scalvaris was my home now. The Drakarn were my people by choice.
And Nyx was mine.
And he was rotting in a cell somewhere.
Not for another minute.
I turned away from the woman I'd nearly stabbed, from the medical tent where Larissa was falling apart, from the curious stares of people who thought they understood what I'd been through.
Larissa was safe. Physically, if not mentally.
I could go back to Kira in good conscience and tell her that her sister was alive and healing.
If I could get these humans to see reason, I could even bring her here, maybe the others, too, if they wanted to eke out a life in the Broken Plains instead of among the Drakarn.
But that life wasn't for me.
I belonged in Scalvaris. With Nyx. With the mate who'd made me a weapon rather than trying to disarm me. Who'd flown me across hostile territory and offered me everything he had without demanding anything in return.
Who was probably tearing himself apart right now, trapped and alone and thinking I'd abandoned him.
The thought made my chest constrict. Made my hands curl into fists at my sides.
And I was going to find him.
Now.